We were swimming at my brother's pool last weekend. Davis is QUITE the daredevil now. He no longer fears the pool - he's all about jumping in, swimming around (unassisted, of course; unless he yells "mommy! I need you!"), playing with all the toys. So, we're in the deep end, I'm treading water, and Davis is on the edge, telling me (all the while moving his hands in a "move back" motion), "go long! Go long!". So I keep scooting back until I think I've scooted back enough and I tell him "just go, bud! I'm right here!" His response? "Mom! It's not dangerous, it's cool!" WTF?! Now where did he learn this?? Certainly not from me. And certainly not from his father. His brother (who I must also mention REALLY doesn't need me. I believe his feet are webbed)? Who knows. All I do know is that he's dangerous. And cool. And I love him more and more every day, if that's even possible.
When I was pregnant with Andrew, I REALLLLLLLY wanted a little boy. I have an older brother, and I wasn't averse to having a little girl (well, not completely. Yet), I just really wanted the boy to be first so that if our planned second child did happen to be a girl, she too could have the big brother who would teach her to play with Tonka trucks and how to make a roadway out of mud. And my wish was granted. A beautiful, healthy baby boy.
When I was pregnant with Davis, I had by that point decided that little girls weren't for me. They scare me. And they're little bitches (they are. You all know they are. I was. My niece is. My neighbor's two little girls are. Bitches). Beautiful and just as gratifying as boys, of course. I just have a preference for little boys. And while pregnant with this HUGE baby, I was so worried it was a girl not only because I am afraid of them, but because I was afraid that little girl would be 6'6" tall like her father.
In both pregnancies, we didn't find out the sex of the baby. I'm glad we did it that way. It made the actual "birth" day more rewarding and exciting. And when the BIG day arrived for Davis to make his debut, we weren't disappointed. A beautiful, healthy, BIG baby boy. I had no idea I could love so much.
Little boys are tough. They beat each other up a lot. They do it so much now that I'm a little concerned about what the house is going to be like when they are bigger and have too much testosterone running through their bodies. It could get ugly.
Right now, though, I'm enjoying every moment of it (well, almost.). Davis is a bull in a China shop and from the day he was born until now he has kept my heart in my throat, just absolutely worries me nonstop. And Andrew is the sweetest, most sincere, compassionate little man ever. He's the lady killer at school. But he's sneaky, too. He sneaks his orneriness. Which makes it kinda fun, really.
I don't want them to grow up. But I'm always so excited for the next stage that I sometimes miss the fun little things. Davis saying that to me from the edge of the pool is priceless. I hope I never forget it. I want to bottle that. And their laughter. And keep it on my dresser forever. I know I can't. And I know they're growing up. I'm just holding on tight and trying not to cry too much.
When I was pregnant with Andrew, I REALLLLLLLY wanted a little boy. I have an older brother, and I wasn't averse to having a little girl (well, not completely. Yet), I just really wanted the boy to be first so that if our planned second child did happen to be a girl, she too could have the big brother who would teach her to play with Tonka trucks and how to make a roadway out of mud. And my wish was granted. A beautiful, healthy baby boy.
When I was pregnant with Davis, I had by that point decided that little girls weren't for me. They scare me. And they're little bitches (they are. You all know they are. I was. My niece is. My neighbor's two little girls are. Bitches). Beautiful and just as gratifying as boys, of course. I just have a preference for little boys. And while pregnant with this HUGE baby, I was so worried it was a girl not only because I am afraid of them, but because I was afraid that little girl would be 6'6" tall like her father.
In both pregnancies, we didn't find out the sex of the baby. I'm glad we did it that way. It made the actual "birth" day more rewarding and exciting. And when the BIG day arrived for Davis to make his debut, we weren't disappointed. A beautiful, healthy, BIG baby boy. I had no idea I could love so much.
Little boys are tough. They beat each other up a lot. They do it so much now that I'm a little concerned about what the house is going to be like when they are bigger and have too much testosterone running through their bodies. It could get ugly.
Right now, though, I'm enjoying every moment of it (well, almost.). Davis is a bull in a China shop and from the day he was born until now he has kept my heart in my throat, just absolutely worries me nonstop. And Andrew is the sweetest, most sincere, compassionate little man ever. He's the lady killer at school. But he's sneaky, too. He sneaks his orneriness. Which makes it kinda fun, really.
I don't want them to grow up. But I'm always so excited for the next stage that I sometimes miss the fun little things. Davis saying that to me from the edge of the pool is priceless. I hope I never forget it. I want to bottle that. And their laughter. And keep it on my dresser forever. I know I can't. And I know they're growing up. I'm just holding on tight and trying not to cry too much.